


Seed

by aderyn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Maybe - Freeform, a moment of bliss, cultivation & crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aderyn/pseuds/aderyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a beautiful mouth, with which he plants things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seed

**Author's Note:**

> For [ Justgot1](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Justgot1), a "moment" of bliss, because I never can do time right.

 

Sherlock has a beautiful mouth, with which he plants things.

You hear, your back to the wall: “There’s no person with whom I'd rather spend the night.”

You think: Here we go again. Every crime a birth. The green lobelia in the pavement cracks says ... _just born_ , maybe, or _come just now into the bliss of beginning._  
  
Sherlock’s smiling in the weak dawn and John wants to put him a stranglehold and do all the things one does in it, but soft.  
  
“Bloody hell,” he says instead, “I need coffee.”  
  
“You need sleep.”  
  
“That's my line.”

It is.

The things is, though, they proliferate.

They could go home doubled, twined, kiss and unzip, roll slow over the acid-burnt rose and the dust and the mold--

They could. They do. They will. They could have.

_Oh go on_ , says the neighbourhood, its chainlinks,its waysides, _be germs, and grow, and name the case for me_.

 

“Sherlock,” John says.  
  
You see:  He’s sprung up on a Sunday morning all thoroughfares and thoughtfares and beakers and loam and you’ve known him nearly ten years on that day.  
  
You observe: The borders of the self are soft and that's just the way it is with some people. You let them in and you’ll never let them out and all the unfencing is murder, and joy.  


**Author's Note:**

> [ "Pavement plants" from the London Natural History Society](http://www.lnhs.org.uk/botany.htm)
> 
>  
> 
>  Not to have but to be  
> The black heart of the poppy  
> O to lie there as seed
> 
> To become the beloved  
> As the world ends, to enter  
> The last note of its music.—Denise Levertov


End file.
